


Slings and Pharaohs

by aurora_australis



Series: New Found Lands [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Historical hotties, Nightcaps and Nerdy Banter, Numismatics, Phryne's Journey 2019 Challenge, autocorrect fails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 06:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: As Jack’s inevitable return to Australia draws nearer, he and Phryne meet up at The Rooftop bar for a nightcap with friends that leads to some unexpected revelations.Part of the (apparently) continuing adventures of Holiday Modern Phryne & Jack, as well as the 2019 Monthly Challenge,"Phryne's Journey".





	Slings and Pharaohs

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a very specific detail in the March prompt, “Singapore,” and set after the previous two stories in this series.
> 
> Many, many thanks to Fire_Sign for the beta read and cheerleading. ;-)

_You up? [9:18pm]_

...

_New phone, who dis? [9:19pm]_

...

Jack raised his eyebrows at the response but smiled at the sender all the same. Shaking his head, he returned the phone to his inside coat pocket.

“What did she say?” Kenny asked, leaning back on the wall as they waited just outside the entrance to The Rooftop bar. 

“I think she’s on her way, though I have no idea what I was meant to interpret from her text.”

“She’s probably just using that new fashioned slang, like OMW,” Kenny teased. Reaching over, he tried to take the phone out of Jack’s pocket, but his cousin swatted his hand away. 

“Oi, never try to take a man’s phone, mate. Good way to lose a hand.”

“Oh yes, I’m terrified,” Kenny laughed. “You’re very threatening.”

“I thought I was intimidating,” Jack countered dryly. “That was your reason for taking so long to introduce me to your boyfriend, was it not?”

“You’re only intimidating to people who don’t know you,” Kenny explained.

Robert shook his head at the exchange, a quiet smile on his lips. “Well, as the boyfriend in question, and having known Jack for two months now, I can attest that both statements are, in fact, true.”

Kenny nodded. “Yes, luckily you were so smitten with Phryne when you met Robert you barely looked away from her to shoot him stern looks.” 

“I was not smitten,” Jack protested.

“No, it was more a ‘head over heels’ kind of situation; I was being generous.”

Jack crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that Kenny was wrong, _per se_ , it’s that he didn’t like being called on it. Jack had originally come to England with five weeks of leave and no attachments, but six days in had met a force of nature in red stilettos who he had become quite attached to indeed. They’d spent almost all their time together during his planned holiday, and then, when an opportunity to extend his stay another five weeks had presented itself, they’d spent much of that time together as well. But now it was only ten days to his revised departure date and Jack was beginning to realize just how strong that attachment had become. 

And he wasn’t at all sure how he felt about it. 

With a sigh, Jack turned to address Kenny once more, but before he could comment further there was a ding and the elevator doors opened, revealing one Miss Phryne Fisher.

She was clearly still dressed from her dinner out, in a stylish black dress that hit just above her knee and a bronze coat of the same length. The dress was simple enough, except for an intricate neckline that consisted of a series of angular cut outs around the clavicle. Jack didn’t notice though, at least not at first; his eyes were, as always, drawn to her own. When they met there was an almost palpable crack of electricity and for just a moment they were the only two people in the room. They both smiled broadly, clearly delighted to see each other again even after only a day apart.

Kenny laughed, quietly, at his thoroughly besotted cousin, sharing a knowing look with Robert as he did. He waved at Phryne, who tore her eyes from Jack’s to wave back.

“Hello darlings!” she trilled, walking over to the threesome. She kissed Kenny and Robert on the cheeks before pulling Jack down by the lapel of his coat to kiss him briefly on the lips. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was terrible.”

“Is that what your convoluted message meant?” Jack asked. “Honestly, Phryne, I’ve taken actual courses in cryptography, but I had no idea what you were getting at.”

“Well, if you’re going to proposition me via text message, Jack…”

“What?” Jack looked around quickly, a little embarrassed at the suggestion given they were not alone. “I just asked if you were on your way up.”

“Check your phone, Jack.”

Jack took out his phone and checked what he’d sent. With a sigh he put it away again. “Damn autocorrect,” he muttered to which Phryne flashed him an amused grin.

“Happens to the best of us,” she said, patting his arm sympathetically.

“Oh that’s nothing,” Robert chimed in. “I’ve been working with some Swedish clients recently and now my autocorrect is adding umlauts to _everything_. I don’t mind, though,” he laughed. “It makes me feel terribly posh.”

“As well it should,” Phryne agreed. “Have you all ordered yet?”

“No, we were waiting for you,” Jack told her.

“Actually,” Kenny interjected, “if you two want to order, Robert and I will go grab a table. It looks a little busy tonight.”

Jack gave his cousin a little salute. "Darby M'Graw, fetch aft the rum.” 

Phryne shook her head in response.

“Ignore Captain Flint here,” she said. “We’ll be right over with refreshments.”

As Kenny and Robert began walking towards the only open table they could see, Phryne and Jack made their way to the bar, where they were welcomed, as always, by Tobias Butler.

“Good evening, Miss Fisher, Inspector.”

“Mr Butler,” Jack greeted the older man, tilting his head and smiling his not-quite-smile. Mr Butler always referred to him as “the Inspector,” mostly because Jack seemed unable to call him ‘Tobias.” It worked for them both, though, and amused Phryne, so neither was terribly inclined to change.

“Would you give me just one moment?” the bartender asked, clearly in the middle of another order.

“Of course,” Jack assured him. “Take your time.”

Mr Butler nodded, then moved away with a shaker towards the other end of the bar. Alone at last, Jack leaned down to give Phryne a proper greeting, appropriate for a public space, but only just.

When they broke apart, she reached up to brush an errant curl off his forehead.

“Hello stranger,” she teased.

“Hello back.” Jack took a step away from her and leaned against the bar. “Did you have a nice dinner?”

“Fine, fine,” Phryne said, hopping up on a bar stool. “We were mostly discussing the timetable for the next Fern Stanley book. My publisher is pushing for a fall release in time for the holiday season, but I don’t see how unless I hole myself up in my hotel room and do nothing but write for two months.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “Well I’ll be gone soon enough and then you can get back to your life.”

It was rare these days, as Jack’s departure date grew closer, for them to mention his inevitable return to Australia. 

Phryne choose to ignore it.

“It’s an impossible deadline at any rate,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “And not worth discussing tonight.”

“Well, what would you rather discuss?”

“How about your day? What did you wind up doing on your afternoon off?”

“It’s not my afternoon off, and I went back to The British Museum. I wanted to - ”

Jack was stopped from finishing by the return of Mr Butler. 

“Apologies for the delay. Now, will you be wanting dinner this evening?”

“Oh no, just drinks,” Phryne said. “We’ve all eaten already. Just a nightcap with Kenny and The Bobbys tonight.”

She had nicknamed them The Bobbys one night because of Robert’s name and Jack’s profession, which had absolutely delighted Kenny. He said they sounded like a band from the ‘60s and declared them the next British Invasion. Robert had reminded him that _he_ was, in fact, the only actual Brit among them, at which point Kenny had labeled him both a spoilsport and “the Ringo.” This had in turn led to a heated discussion amongst the four over the various merits of the famous drummer, which had only halted when Phryne had casually mentioned that she’d once dated a Beatles impersonator, but refused to disclose which Beatle he impersonated.

Jack still tried to wheedle it out of her from time to time. 

Phryne smiled at the memory, briefly wondering if she and Kenny and Robert would still spend time together once Jack went back to Australia. She hoped so. 

“Another early night, then?” Mr Butler asked, breaking her out of her musings.

Phryne looked at the man a little quizzically. “I suppose so.” Shaking off the odd feeling that had suddenly fallen over her, she asked instead, “Now, what marvelous concoction have you for us tonight?”

Mr Butler considered the two for a moment before deciding. “A Singapore Sling, I think. If that suits.”

“Well I don’t think I’ve actually ever had one, but it sounds wonderful,” Jack replied. He turned to Phryne. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to pop off to the loo. I’ll be back to help you carry them,” he assured her before heading towards the restroom.

Phryne watched him go for a moment, before turning her attention back to Mr Butler and his cocktail preparations. It was slightly hypnotic, watching him pour and stir and shake, and before she knew it there were four absolutely beautiful highball glasses in front of her filled with a liquid that began as dark red at the bottom before slowly transitioning to bright orange at the top. Each was garnished with a brandied cherry, an orange twist, and a mint sprig, and her mouth watered a little at the sight.

“Perfect,” she announced, looking around to see if Jack was back yet. Seeing that he was not, she glanced around the bar.

“Busy tonight,” she observed.

“Yes, this is our most busy time,” Mr Butler agreed, wiping down the counter. He smiled at her. “You’re probably just used to closing up the place.”

“Yes, you mentioned - what did you mean by that? Before. That this was another early night.”

“Nothing. Just that you aren’t here at closing as often anymore. I expect that’s the Inspector’s influence, he strikes me as less of a night owl,” the older man said absently, putting away some glasses. 

Phryne frowned, not at all enjoying the implication. She did not change her routines for a man. But… well, Mr B wasn’t wrong; she _wasn’t_ staying out as late anymore. She hadn’t minded, but maybe she should. She was still mulling it over when Jack returned. 

“Sorry, there was a queue. Quite a crowd tonight,” Jack remarked picking up two of the glasses. “And these look wonderful, thank you Mr Butler.”

“You’re quite welcome, Inspector,” the older man replied. With a nod at Phryne, he moved down the bar. 

Phryne and Jack made their way over to the corner table that Kenny and Robert had somehow nabbed and placed all four drinks down. Sitting next to each other and across from the two men, Phryne handed Kenny and Robert the drinks she had been holding and then accepted one from Jack. 

“How was dinner? Any new developments on Fern’s next adventure?” Kenny asked, aiming for only mildly interested but missing the mark by a mile.

Robert laughed. “You should have never told him your secret identity. You really have no one but yourself to blame.” 

“I’m aware,” Phryne replied with a good-natured grin. “Not a secret identity, by the way, just a pen name. You make it sound like Archie Jones has a cape and a cutlass.”

“Well the pen _is_ mightier than the sword,” Jack noted. “Must be why I prefer Phryne to Archie.”

“Are you sure?” Phryne teased. “Archie might have a costume.”

Seeing that Kenny and Robert were currently occupied with each other, Jack took the opportunity to lean over and whisper in her ear. “Pretty sure Phryne has one or two of her own.”

Phryne shrugged, a sly smile on her face, neither confirming nor denying the suggestion. She picked up her drink, and Jack and Kenny quickly followed suit.

Robert eyed his a little suspiciously.

“It’s a Singapore Sling,” Phryne told him. “Mr B’s version anyway.”

He took a cautious sip, then smiled. “It tastes like fruit.” He took another sip. “And gin.”

“Right on the nose, then,” Phryne assured him. The other three each took their own sips and Kenny sighed. 

“That man is a genius behind the bar,” he proclaimed.

“Agreed.” Jack took another, large sip. “Quite good, though I’ve never had one before.”

“I can’t believe that,” Phryne said. “You must have done.”

“Not that I recall. You have, I suppose?”

“Mmmm. I actually had one in the Raffles Hotel where it was invented.”

“Did you really?” Kenny looked delighted. “I have always wanted to go to Singapore.”

“You’ve always wanted to go to Singapore since you saw _Crazy Rich Asians_ last year,” Robert corrected him.

“It was a good movie!”

“It was a great movie, but the fact remains, this hasn’t been a lifelong goal.”

“Not all of us planned our entire lives in utero, Robert,” Kenny teased, bumping the man’s shoulder affectively.

“And it shows,” Robert countered, bumping back.

Jack smiled at the exchange and Phryne smiled at Jack. For all Kenny’s worry about what Jack would think of Robert, the three of them were thick as thieves now.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Kenny said pointedly, “why were you in Singapore, Phryne? Book tour?”

“I was actually retracing Amy Johnson's solo flight from London to Darwin for the 80th anniversary. There was a contest and so I entered.”

“Of course you did,” Jack muttered affectionately.

“Did you win?” Robert asked, taking another sip.

“Sadly, no. Engine trouble in Thailand.” Jack looked up worriedly at that and she quickly reassured him. “Not in the air, but it still grounded me for a day and that was enough to take me out of the race. Hence my stay at Raffles - if I wasn’t going to win I was going to damn well enjoy myself.”

Jack tilted his glass to her and took another sip. As he did, a waiter appeared before the table with two fruit crumbles. 

Jack put up a hand to redirect him. “I’m sorry, we didn’t order - ”

“Compliments of the bartender, sir. He said, quote, _the Robinson men have that lean and hungry look tonight_ , unquote.” The server gave a pleasant shrug, clearly not understanding the reference, but happy to help out Mr Butler all the same. He put two desserts and four forks on the table, then headed back to the bar.

Jack made that downturned puppy dog face Phryne secretly thought was hot as hell and grabbed both a fork and the plate. He took a bite and actually moaned. 

“This is delicious and whatever this place pays Mr Butler is not enough,” Jack decreed, his fork already making its way back to the plate again.

Phryne laughed, sipping her cocktail. “So how was dinner?” she asked the table in general.

“Good,” Kenny answered, in between bites of his own. “We went to a new place over by Waterloo Station. Which was fine except Jack dragged us all to see that statue of the women in the chariot on the way back here.”

“ _Boadicea and Her Daughters_ ,” Jack corrected with an eyeroll. “And it’s an extraordinary piece.”

“It’s a statue of several ladies and some horses - we got loads of those here.”

Jack put down his fork. “First of all, no you don’t. And also, shut up.”

Kenny laughed. “Masterful retort, mate.”

“You want a better one? Fine - the sculptor worked on it for 30 years! That was half a lifetime back then. Prince Albert himself requested it, and I happen to know Boadicea bears some resemblance to a young Queen Victoria, which is a lovely tribute, I think, to a… lovely woman.”

The room was dark, but Phryne didn’t miss the touch of pink around Jack’s ears at the last statement.

“A young Queen Victoria, Jack?” Phryne asked innocently. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I just said… lovely tribute.”

“And this wouldn’t be because you have a crush on the good Queen?”

The tips of his ears flamed.

“I… wouldn’t call it a _crush_.”

Kenny and Phryne’s tandem peals of laughter startled the diners sitting next to them and Robert shot them a grimace smile in apology.

“You DO!” Kenny accused. “You have a crush on Queen Victoria. You think she was a historical hottie!”

“That is a gross oversimplification,” Jack insisted. “I… admire her. A lot.” Jack’s face did some expression gymnastics as he tried and failed to unfluster himself. “She was a remarkable woman!” he finally sputtered out.

“I’m sure,” Phryne said sympathetically. So sympathetically that Jack knew she was stitching him up. “Still, to learn of your affections for another woman…” She sighed, dramatically. “Well… we are not amused.”

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head. “Are you all finished? Have you had your fun?”

Kenny shrugged. “I have a few more about Mrs. Melbourne, but those will keep.”

Jack shot him a glare and picked up his fork again. When Phryne did the same, he used his to intercept hers.

“Oh no, I don’t think you get any dessert tonight. Traitor.”

Phryne gently pushed his cutlery to the side. “And who’s going to stop me?” she asked, already weaving her newly freed fork towards the crumble with aim and precision, avoiding his attempts to block her again. “Something I have in common with your true love Victoria, Jack - when I want something, I can fly down the roads like Boadicea in her chariot.”

Just as she reached the crumble, Jack’s fork reached Phryne's, smashing the dessert and pinning her fork. “But even a Celtic queen has the odd accident,” he said smugly.

Across the table Kenny shook his head. "I don't know what you two nerds are talking about right now, but you're making a right hash of this delicious and free dessert and you should feel ashamed."

From the slightly flushed color on both their faces, shame was the last thing either one of them was feeling.

Phryne slowly took her fork back, Jack’s eyes watching her cautiously the entire time. He began to lift his own bite to his mouth when she darted forward and stole the piece right off Jack’s fork. 

He shook his head, attempting to look annoyed but probably looking rather besotted instead. He reached over to wipe a crumb from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, but noticing the look in Phryne’s eye, like she was about to make _him_ dessert, he quickly removed it. In his rush to pull back his arm, though, he almost knocked over his drink, and wound up fumbling with both hands on the table to right it.

She didn’t bother to hide her amused smile, but had the decency not to call him on it.

“So, Jack, what took you back to The British Museum today?” she asked instead.

“Oh, I wanted to explore the Department of Coins and Medals some more. Do you know they have a silver coin from 32BC with Mark Antony’s profile on one side and Cleopatra’s on the other?”

“Well if you went back, I suppose even the woman’s coin collection makes hungry where most it satisfies,” she quipped, stealing a bit more crumble as she did.

“Oh Jackie and his coins,” Kenny teased. “Ever since we were kids. Did you know he and our Great Uncle Ted used to look at the old man’s collection for hours?”

“Did you really, Jack?” She rested her chin in her hand and settled in for a story, her delight in discovering a new fact about her never-ending source of mystery unmistakable. 

“I did. Hearing about where all those coins came from, how old or unique they were; it was quite an adventure for a shy little boy.”

“And where did they come from?” Phryne asked. “The ruins of ancient Greece? Deep in the jungles of Patagonia?”

Jack and Kenny both laughed. “Knowing Uncle Ted,” Kenny said, “they came from a catalogue. He was sweet, but not much of an adventurer.” He looked at Jack as though trying to recall something. “He willed that collection to you when he passed, didn’t he?”

Jack nodded. “Which I promptly sold at the age of 12, so I could buy my first bicycle. Not my finest investment, perhaps.”

“Your thighs say otherwise,” Phryne said sipping her drink innocently. At his chastising look she added, “Besides, what greater adventure is there? I bet you rode further than you’d ever ridden before.”

“As it happens, I did. Right across the uncharted wilds of North Richmond.” 

She gasped. “Where even Captain Flint didn’t dare tread!”

Jack raised an eyebrow and adopted his best pirate accent. “And the pirate girls of Collingwood ruled the waves.”

Phryne smiled softly, touched by his memory of their conversation in Paris, and raised her glass. “Well then - to pirates, adventurers, and boys on bicycles.”

Jack clinked with her then took another sip, surprised to find he was almost done. Mr Butler really did make the most excellent concoctions.

Across from him, Kenny grinned. “Well it wouldn’t be my first choice for my day off, but whatever makes you happy.”

“It’s not my day off,” Jack insisted.

“You didn’t have work today. It’s your day off.”

“It’s not - I don’t have a _job_ , so I can’t have a day off. It’s continued training in my field with one of the foremost experts alive today.”

Kenny gave an exaggerated yawn, and lay his head down on Robert’s shoulder. “Yes, I can tell you’re really living it up in London, Jack. Terms like ‘continued training’ and ‘foremost experts’ are just peppered through all the best travel books.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Oi, funny man. The timing worked out for me to join this program at Scotland Yard while I was here. That’s all. It’s not a job; it’s an amazing opportunity.”

Kenny raised his head again and grabbed his drink. “Look, all I’m saying is this is supposed to be a holiday, Jackie.” He saluted Phryne with his glass. “You’re just lucky that it's down the street from your girlfriend.” 

Sitting as close as they were, neither Jack nor Phryne could hide their startled reactions to the term. They'd so far very studiously avoided labeling what they were - mostly because Jack continued to be a bit skittish and Phryne had a relationship history that could best be described as "eclectic" - but clearly others had no such qualms. But now that it had been said, out and in the open, Jack was surprised to realize the description sat well with him. Incredibly well, actually. He smiled and turned to Phryne.

She wasn’t smiling.

She was looking down at her drink. And when she finally looked back up at Kenny, she still wore a pleasant expression on her face, but there was a tightness around her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Oh I don’t know, Kenny, I don't think I've been been a girl in quite some time.”

Realizing that he had inadvertently stepped in it, Kenny put down his glass and moved his hand over to take hers in an act of apology, but she stood up quickly before he could. “I’m going to get another drink. Anyone else?”

Jack coughed. “Uh, sure.”

Robert shook his head. “None for us, I’m afraid. I actually do have a job to be at tomorrow.” It wasn’t the best attempt to break the tension with humour, but it was an attempt and Jack appreciated it all the same.

Phryne nodded, then headed back to the bar. Jack watched her go, his face unreadable, even to the cousin who had known him most of his life. Staring at her retreating form, Jack thought back again to his first bike, to a particularly treacherous ride he’d taken by the seashore a few years after he’d bought it. There had been a small cliff that overlooked another path and one day Jack had decided to risk it. After he’d jumped, he’d sailed through the air for long moments, feeling weightless and free and completely, utterly happy. The crash that had followed had been a complete surprise.

The bike had never been the same after that.

Jack turned back to his cousin, saw the thoroughly remorseful look on the man’s face.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean to… Just go after her, I’m sure - ”

“It’s fine.” Jack waved his hand dismissively and changed the subject. “When did you need to catch the tube tonight?”

Robert looked at his watch. “Anytime in the next half hour should be fine.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll just finish that second drink then and we can go.”

“We?” Kenny asked, clearly surprised.

“Yes, I think I’ll head home with you tonight. If that’s alright.”

“With us?”

“Yes...”

Kenny crossed his arms over his chest. “Even though we’re already at the hotel you basically live at that is much closer to the place you need to be at in the morning for your job?”

“It’s not a - ”

“Stop.” Kenny made a halting gesture with his hand, punctuating his directive.

“What?”

“Don’t… just, don’t fuck this up.”

“Excuse me?” Jack asked, half incredulous, half indignant.

“This. You and Phryne. Don’t let this ridiculous expiration date you’ve self imposed - ”

“It’s not _self imposed_ , I need to get back to my life - ”

“... ruin the best thing you’ve had in that life for years!” 

Jack didn’t answer. Just stared at his empty glass, his face once again unreadable. 

Robert looked between the two cousins before standing up somewhat awkwardly.

“This feels like a family moment. I’m just going to go… someplace else.” He walked over in the direction of the loo, leaving the two men alone.

Kenny took a deep breath.

“Jack, mate, I have known you my whole life. You’re like a brother to me. I have seen you through some excellent times and some absolutely shite times and I can say, without a second of hesitation, that I have never seen you as happy as you are when you two idiots are discussing advances in forensic science, or quoting Shakespeare at each other, or… ” he pointed at the wreckage on his plate, “sparing over dessert. So at the risk of repeating myself - don’t. fuck. this. up.” Kenny’s expression softened and he continued. “You deserve to be happy. Please… can you think about that?”

Jack nodded minutely. “I will.” Kenny raised his eyebrows and Jack nodded again. “I promise.”

They sat there, quietly, for a moment or two, Kenny clearly waiting for his cousin to process and re-engage. They’d obviously known each other too damn long.

Jack stared out the window, looking at the lights of London, remembering the first night she’d brought him here. He’d been emphatic that it was safer not to get involved, that he was who he was. And she’d promised to never ask him to give that up. He had believed her.

It had never occurred to him, that night, that he might ask it of her. 

When he finally looked back at Kenny, Jack’s face was totally, terribly, readable.

“As my departure date moves closer, I find the thought of leaving her… unbearable.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing,” Kenny said softly.

“It is if…” He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “When we first started… this,” he made a vague gesture in the air, “I told her I didn’t want serious. I didn’t do serious. But then I did and it’s been… amazing.”

“Ok so - ”

“And therein lies the problem. What if _she_ doesn’t want serious? With me anyway. What if she’s running scared? You saw how she reacted to your comment.”

Kenny considered his cousin for a moment. “Jack, I know it took you a long time to get over what happened with Rosie, but that wasn’t your fault.” Jack put up a hand to protest, and Kenny quickly continued. 

“I’m not saying that it was her fault either. Both, neither, somewhere in the middle. My point is you don’t need to sacrifice the possibility of future happiness on the altar of past pain. Just… think about it.” He threw down his napkin and folded his arms. “And for god’s sake, don’t make the decision _for_ Phryne. I know you two idiots seem capable of communicating with just your eyes, but trust me on this - in an actual adult relationship, words help too.”

Jack smiled slightly, and nodded at the statement.

“And if, after your adult conversation, she still runs scared, then screw her. If she can’t appreciate the best bloke Australia’s ever produced, that’s her loss.” Kenny leaned in a little and lowered his voice. “Except please don’t tell her I said that, because I love the woman but also I’m a little terrified of her.”

Jack laughed at that, loudly, and pushed out his chair. “Me too. And… thank you. For… just, thank you.” He stood and nodded towards the bar. “Come on, I think it’s time we went after them.”

Kenny stood as well. “And you’ll think about it?” he repeated. “What I said, I mean.”

“I will,” Jack promised, clasping the younger man on the shoulder. Then they turned and walked to the bar.

\---------------------

“I think I might be a hypocrite.”

“How is that, miss?” 

If Tobias Butler was in any way surprised by the sudden appearance of Phryne Fisher and the non sequitur that she opened the conversation with, he didn’t show it in the least.

“I initiated… this, convinced the man to take a chance, and then a single, _completely understandable_ descriptor, and a few early nights, have me running for the door. Metaphorically, I mean. I actually walked. Here.” She put her head down on her hands atop the bar.

Mr Butler considered her for a moment.

“Would you like another drink, miss?”

Her head still on the bar top, Phryne spoke into her hands. “I left my glass at the table.”

“We have more glasses here.”

Phryne finally raised her head to look at him.

“Yes, please.”

As he turned away to start making it, Phryne sat upright and smoothed down her hair, watching Mr Butler at work. “Oh and one for Jack, please.”

“Of course, miss.” He grabbed a second glass off the shelf.

Phryne watched him, an interesting detail causing her to frown slightly.

“Are you making a different drink? Those are hurricane glasses.”

“No, miss, another Singapore Sling. Just a slight variation, better as a second round. This one has lychee liqueur and mango juice. I like a hurricane glass for it.” He looked down as he began to mix and strain. “Are you familiar with the origin of the Singapore Sling, miss?” he asked, not looking up.

“Invented at the Raffles Hotel in Singapore. Early 1900s, I believe.”

“Mmmm, though the earliest appearance in a recipe book appears to have been in 1930 in the Savoy Cocktail Book, created right here on the Strand.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes.” He stopped, thinking for a moment. “¼ lemon juice, ¼ Dry Gin, ½ Cherry Brandy. Shake well and strain into medium size glass, and fill with soda water. Add 1 lump of ice.” He smiled at her as he went back to work.

“Of course that’s not how I make it. At least not every time. But we all have our versions, don’t we?” He looked down as he began to garnish the drinks with pineapple and a cherry. “Do you know why I think the Singapore Sling has stayed so popular for so long?”

“People like gin?” she guessed. 

Mr Butler smiled. “Very true. But also, it’s a wonderfully... versatile, drink. Eminently adaptable, changing as the situation requires while still retaining its essence. I’ve seen variations with Cointreau, absinthe, even crushed jasmine flowers. Still a Singapore Sling though.” As he spoke, he wiped a few stray drops off the counter, before tossing the cloth over his shoulder. 

“It never forgets its origins in that Raffles Hotel, but it’s not so consumed by what it was that it doesn’t allow for the possibility of what it might become. It evolves, you see.”

Phryne raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, an amused smile on her lips. “Are we still talking about the drink?

Mr Butler shrugged. “I’m a bartender, what else would we be talking about?”

“You’re not dispensing bar therapy?”

“I think you’ve seen one too many reruns of _Cheers_ , miss,” he said, handing her both glasses. She took one and began stirring the liquid with the straw absentmindedly. 

“I haven’t been a girlfriend in a long time,” she said quietly. “Maybe I never was. Not really.”

“Well then… perhaps it’s something new to try?”

“Evolution?” she asked, looking up to meet his eyes.

He shrugged again, and offered her a gentle smile. “It certainly worked for the Singapore Sling.”

Phryne was saved from additional contemplation by the arrival of Robert.

“Hey there,” he said softly, testing the waters.

“Hello,” she greeted with a smile.

He looked a little embarrassed. 

“Hey, I’m sorry if Kenny overstepped. He didn’t mean anything by it, honestly.”

Phryne waved her hand in the air. “No no, it was fine.” She glanced around. “Where are the other two, anyway?”

Robert looked over to the table to see the two men making their approach. When they reached the bar Robert shot Kenny a slightly questioning look; in answer Kenny leaned over and gave him a kiss and a smile. Then he turned to Phryne, speaking quietly.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier, if I upset you at all or…”

“Not upset in the slightest,” she assured him, nodded to her drink. “Just thirsty.” She took a sip and smiled. “All better now. What about you? Crumbles vanquished?”

“Crumbles crumbled,” Kenny confirmed.

“Excellent! Your drink, Jack,” she said, handing him his.

“Thank you.” He took the beverage from her, frowning slightly at the new glass, and then stood, a bit awkwardly, beside an empty seat.

Kenny coughed slightly and rocked back on his heels. He gestured to Jack’s drink. “So you just want to finish that and then…” Kenny nodded to the door with a pointed look on his face.

“Actually,” Jack said slowly, “I’m going to stay with Phryne tonight.” He looked over at her. “If that’s ok.”

She looked surprised for a moment. “Of course, Jack.”

Kenny nodded. “Good, because I rented out the spare room on Airbnb two weeks ago for extra cash.”

There was clearly something in the Robinson DNA that allowed for completely unreadable expressions when necessary; Kenny rarely employed that particular gene, but when he did, it was to rather spectacular effect. Jack’s jaw dropped, just slightly, and he started to sputter out something resembling words until Kenny cracked and started laughing.

“I’m just kidding, mate. It’s always yours if you need it.” He gave Phryne a kiss and Jack a hug. “Have fun kids, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Robert leaned over to give Phryne a hug as well. “That list is admittedly short, but it does exist. We’ll see you this weekend for the show?”

“Absolutely,” she assured him. 

“Great. Thanks for the drinks.”

Jack took a seat next to Phryne at the bar, the place having cleared out a bit since they first arrived. He watched the two men walk out, staring in the general direction of the exit well after they’d disappeared from view.

“Are you alright?” she asked him finally.

He turned back to face her. “Yes, why do you - ”

“You were going to stay at Kenny’s tonight?”

“A passing fancy.” A small smile appeared at the corners of his lips. “I guess I was thirsty too.” He nodded to his drink. “Turns out they have drinks here.”

“Thank goodness,” she chuckled.

They sipped for a moment in silence.

“And you’re really ok?” he asked, looking at his drink.

“Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought maybe things were getting too… familiar for you.”

“Familiar?” She laughed. “God, Jack, sometimes those old-fashioned sensibilities of yours just shine right through, don’t they?”

He shot her an unamused glance. “Well it has been known to breed contempt.”

“No contempt, here,” she assured him, putting a hand on his knee. He placed his over hers and squeezed, and she could feel him relax. “And familiarity doesn’t have to be boring either, Jack.” She moved in close to his ear. “For example, I’d very much like to become more familiar with whatever it was you did last night.”

“Oh, you liked that, did you?” He grinned, a humorous glint in his eye. “I call it The Policeman’s Knock.”

Phryne leaned back in her chair, and shrugged. “Why do you think I let you come inside?”

Jack barked out a loud laugh, then glanced around quickly, checking he hadn’t disturbed any other patrons with the sound. She smiled, laughing along with him at their ridiculous, absurd, beautiful banter.

“I’ve never had this before,” she confessed. “Someone I could laugh with. About sex, I mean.”

He could have been offended, but he very obviously wasn’t. He just nodded, grin still on his face.

“It’s nice,” he said. 

“It’s more than nice,” she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

“Oh? So what is it then?” he asked, just as quietly.

“I think it’s evolution,” she said, the smile on her face small and secret and more sure than she’d been in a long time.

Jack looked confused, but didn’t push it. Instead he took another sip of his drink and sighed. “This is really delicious. We better stop at the two or I might be in trouble.”

She looked down at her drink and shook her head, contemplatively. “Something tells me we’re already in trouble, Jack.” The unexpected confession left her feeling mildly off balance and a little self-conscious, and she was relieved when Mr Butler suddenly appeared before Jack could respond. She looked up at the older man, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “Mr B, you are an angel incarnate and this a perfect second round. When I buy a house I am absolutely making you an offer.”

He smiled at the pair. “I look forward to it, miss.”

Jack looked at her quizzically. “So you’re still thinking of settling somewhere?”

“Of course. I told you I was.” 

“You did, you did. I suppose I just always imagine you in London, like that statue of Boadicea. My failure of imagination, you’re hardly a permanent fixture.”

She took a sip of her drink, then gently took his hand. “Actually, Jack, I rather think I’m wonderfully versatile.”

“You are that too,” he said, leaning in to kiss her softly.

“And what are you, Jack?”

“Me?” He tilted his head, sporting a secret smile of his own. “I suppose… I’m thinking.”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push him. Picking up her drink, she hopped off the stool and nodded to the door. “What do you say, shall we _knock off_?”

He laughed again and nodded. While she settled up with Mr Butler, Jack took out his phone, and punched out a quick message before putting it away again. “Ready?”

Phryne began walking to the exit when her phone buzzed. She fished it out of her pocket, read it, then tossed her head back and laughed at the message.

_If you’ll forgive the familiarity, Miss Fisher… you up? [10:07pm]_

She turned to look at Jack, a cheeky smile on her face that matched his own.

“Not too late?” he asked.

She linked her free arm through his, giving his bicep a squeeze as she did.

“For you, Jack - never.”

She watched as the look on his face changed, his ever expressive eyes soft and searching now.

“You know what? Boadicea’s got absolutely nothing on you.”

Phryne decided the only appropriate response to that was sass; there had already been more than enough sentimentality for one evening. “High praise indeed, Jack. But how do I compare to the lovely Queen Victoria?”

He shrugged, right back in step with her teasing. “Talk to me after you’ve survived eight assassination attempts.”

“Fair enough. Does _la petite mort_ count?” she asked with feigned innocence.

“Oh, well, I said attempts, not successes.”

She laughed, delighting in both his confidence and their repartee. “So you did,” she agreed. “Shall we?” 

He nodded and they turned together to resume their walk to the elevators, her room, and the uncharted wild of the next ten days.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, looks like there will now be four parts to this story. Of course the original plan only had the one, so clearly I can’t be trusted, even by myself. Sorry? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Captain Flint is a fictional 18th-century pirate who features in a number of stories. The original character was created by Robert Louis Stevenson and first appears in _Treasure Island_. Flint is said to have died in Savannah, shouting, "Darby M'Graw - fetch aft the rum.”
> 
> If you’re the kind of person who digs sartorial inspiration, here is [Phryne’s cocktail dress](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/19/29/e2/1929e24d7a6c3491b67782dae7f7e667.jpg).
> 
> And if you’re the kind of person who digs sculptural inspiration, here is [_Boadicea and Her Daughters_](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/57/Boudica_statue%2C_Westminster_%288433726848%29.jpg/1920px-Boudica_statue%2C_Westminster_%288433726848%29.jpg) by Thomas Thornycroft.
> 
> There are in fact hundreds of variations on the Singapore Sling. D. A. Embury stated in _The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks_ , "Of all the recipes published for [it] I have never seen any two that were alike." I have used [this one](https://media1.popsugar-assets.com/files/thumbor/Ictj7ybSvYA4gSXRilkYhze0sxQ/fit-in/2048xorig/filters:format_auto-!!-:strip_icc-!!-/2014/12/04/005/n/1922195/23585c4a17d2967f_Singapore-Sling-Cocktail1.jpg) as the inspiration for Mr B’s round one concoction. Cheers!


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